How to be a Bad Blogger

Greetings from no-man’s land, that strange and glorious stretch between Christmas and New Years. I have made it out of the house precisely twice since Monday: once for an epic double date with our dear friends, and last night for an emergency milk and cat food run with all four children to Walmart, during which all three girls insisted on pushing a cart, but since I trust exactly *none* of them to safely escort their baby brother around the store, we made a giant four-cart train through the aisles, much to the smiles/consternation of other shoppers.

Such is life with four kids, which brings me to my next point. I’ve been terrible at blogging this year. Capital T terrible. I apologize. It’s not for lack of writing on my part – it’s simply that my writing time is being pulled in other directions, which leaves approximately zero luxury time for sitting at the computer sorting out my thoughts, which you all have been so gracious to read and share.

Now since it’s almost the New Year, and the role of mistakes and mishaps in life is to learn from them, I decided I’d pen down a few ways NOT to be a good blogger in hopes that maybe I can trick my brain into some sort of reverse psychology and get my creative butt back in gear. Or maybe I just found an extra hour today and felt like writing. Either way, let’s begin.

1. Go four months between blog posts

Yes, that’s right. Process none of the wonderful, thought-provoking, difficult, epic, and laughable things that happened in your life during the past four months. Especially don’t mention the time you found a few goodly chunks of hair (previous owner unknown) floating gently in your toilet, accompanied by a little light reading and the assumed weapon of choice. Let it all breeze by with the occasional picture on IG/FB, and just keep rocking the daily grind. Tell yourself you’ll write about it later. If you’re lucky, you might remember to… or not.

2. Forget all attempts to recap party planning hacks

Every year, we throw a big informal Friendsgiving bash complete with half eaten side dishes, glorious pies, Jason’s epic smoked turkey, and the delicious gravy I *may* have borrowed from my wonderful mother-in-law post Thanksgiving. Some pretty awesome pictures of cute children and smiling grownups were taken from this event, but I didn’t manage to write or share about any of it. My hopes of starting a holiday gathering journal with notes about seating, numbers, favorite dishes the kids ate, and easy hacks? Never happened. Maybe next year…

3. Post pictures of delicious food, but forget to write down the actual recipe

This fall, I threw together one of the best salmon chowders I’ve ever eaten. Seriously. I still think about it. Except that I did it in the fever of getting supper on the table one night and used whatever I had laying around in the fridge, which apparently was the perfect combination… but now I can’t recall what I did or what herbs I had on hand or just, exactly, what my method was in the first place. All I know is that I have a small serving of frozen smoked salmon just begging to be used for the same purpose, and I have no way of recreating my previous kitchen miracle.

4. Enjoy freelance work so much you allow personal projects to lapse.

It’s been a great year for new endeavors, and I’m totally grateful for it (especially since one of them helped us purchase a new stove since our finally died). I did some content editing (WHICH I LOVE!), website writing, and specialty writing for a marriage and family therapist, and I contributed to my first actual published BOOK – a faith meditation and devotional project that I’ll tell you more about once it’s back from the publishers. I even managed an afternoon of solitude and reading and writing at our state park for that one, and I had to take a picture because the moment was so quietly…amazing. However, that meant my windows of writing time were spoken for, and my personal projects got set aside. C’est la vie in this current season.

5. Relish that all your tiny humans sleep through the night. Sleep more accordingly.

We are in a beautiful state of sleeping homeostasis right now. All four children go to bed between 7:30 and 8:00 pm, sleep solidly through the night, and wake up anywhere from 6:30-8:00 am. I can hardly believe it. In celebration, I have abandoned all habits of waking early (which was easier when I was ushered into being awake during the wee hours by nursing, or fixing blankets, or finding nuks, etc.) and am taking full advantage of getting a solid 7-8 hours of sleep a night. It’s magical. And unproductive. And magical.

And there you have it. If you too want to ignore any lovely little endeavor (be it blog, or personal business, craft project, or exercise regimen) you started a few years back when you were stumbling through a life circumstance and needed an new outlet, you have my full permission. To everything a season. Meanwhile, I’ll write when I can, and stop wasting time feeling bad about it. I hope you give yourself enough grace to do the same wherever you need.

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Rachel Riebe is forever thankful for grace, good cheese, and strong words. She is a freelance writer with a stalled MFA, a women's ministry leader, and a mama to four darlings five and under. Her family and an assortment of cats and chickens live on a hobby farm in Taylors Falls, Minnesota.